Housecleaning
by demoness-sweet
Summary: It all began with a featherduster. And then Crowley started to make suggestive comments, and it all went downhill... SLASH: m/m hinted


HOUSECLEANING   
by: demoness_sweet  
  
(A/N: Hey all! I read GO a couple of months ago and was STRUCK by the chemistry between our beloved angel and demon. So I dreamed and wrote. R and R is ALWAYS appreciated. Those who do get brownie points and a broccoli cookie ^_^)  
  
Warning: This story contains SLASH overtones. That is: a male/male relationship. DO NOT read if you are uncomfortable with this. I know that you probably know what you're getting into, but I don't have time to babysit people who cannot read the warnings, and I DO NOT appreciate getting flamed by those who have issues with my stories because they chose to read them. Have an issue, didn't read the warning? Tough.   
  
This work is based on GO, not mine...yeah. You know the drill, don't sue me cuz I'm not making money off of it. You'll get three nickels and a chapstick. And I'll throw rotten cabbages at you in the process.   
  
  
HOUSECLEANING  
***********************************  
  
"Crowley, what ARE you doing with that feather duster?"  
  
"What does it look like angel? I KNOW that not even you're THAT innocent. For G...ummm, nevermind, I know that six millennia, of which at least four were spent on this earth does not leave anyone without SOME insight into the more...primitive...side of human nature."  
  
"Uh, actually, my dear boy, you are mistaken."  
  
"Really? Enlighten me, by all means."   
  
*blush* "Crowley, I must be imagining that rather predatory look in your eyes."  
  
"No angel, you are not."  
  
"Oh. Dear. Dear me."  
  
"Oh. Yes. Dear you. And you never answered my question."  
  
"Ummm, which was that?"  
  
"The one about me being mistaken...oh wait..."  
  
"What I was saying was that its difficult for me to imagine you with a primitive side of your nature. I mean, you aren't exactly human. You're a demon, an immortal, you can't be killed, you can't be destroyed by normal means, you were...oh dear, I'm rambling. And Crowley, let me make it clear that that gleam in your eye is most disconcerting, even behind the glasses."  
  
*purrs* "Why angel, you don't think that I have a darker, more...primitive... nature."   
  
*fierce blushing* "Ummm, what I, uhh, meant to, ummm, say is that, uhhhh, you don't really have a lighter side, and so...you can't have a darker side if you're dark all over."   
  
"Angel! I'm shocked! I never knew that you examined my body so closely, although I believe myself to be merely tanned. Nude beaches have that nice effect of not giving you tanned lines."  
  
"CROWLEY!!! You...you absolute...Bugger it all! I'm leaving!"  
  
"And there's always an opportunity to wreak havoc and..."  
  
"Crowley! Where is the door?!"  
  
"although the Apocalypse incident was rather hard to get over...  
  
"Crowley!!! This was NOT just four walls, a ceiling and a floor when I got into this room!!!"  
  
"which is totally unfair. I mean, you mess up a little, and they make such a big fuss. They're all the..."  
  
"CROWLEY!!!!!"  
  
"same, all anal-retentive Republicans with a fetish for...oh, I'm sorry angel, could you repeat that?"  
  
"Crowley. An angel has not destroyed another immortal creature for three millennia (1). I am very close to repeating that act. OPEN. THE. DOOR.   
  
"Awww, angel, you're such a spoilsport. Stay a bit longer. Please?"  
  
"Crowley, that face will, ummm, get you, uhhh, nowhe...."  
  
"You KNOW that you're weakening. Oh come on angel, lighten up."  
  
"Lighten up? After the Chocolate Sauce Incident. You want me to Lighten Up?"  
  
"A mere technicality and unavoidability of uncalculated difficulties."  
  
"Which always happens when we attempt to help an unsuspecting, bedridden housewife with cooking and cleaning. I swear Crowley, this is the last time you drag me into this."  
  
"Even though it technicality is that?"  
  
"Crowley, I doubt your original intention of putting laxatives into her husband's coffee would be termed a good deed."  
  
"But angel...*whine* it IS. Did you see his face? He had a serious case of SCOBART (Severe Constipation Or Bureaucracy And Red Tape)."  
  
"...SCOBART? I think that is the m...wait...she's coming into the kitchen. Leaving is probably prudent at this time. Shall we, dear boy?  
  
~~~~~later~~~~~  
  
"Angel,"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
*lecherous grin* "Do you think that I'm dark ALL OVER?"   
  
  
~END~  
  
  
(1) Four millennia, seven hundred centuries, twenty two decades, three years, the eighteenth week, Tuesday, just before lunch at eleven thirty, when the angel Raphael, accidentally tossing a bucketful of holy water in which he had cleaned his paintbrushes, accidentally splashed a young demon skating on the Road of Frozen Door-To-Door Salesmen (TM) The large pothole has yet to be filled, since the race of this species of salesman is being fast pushed out by the increasingly powerful telemarketer, possessed of a thicker skin, worse timing, and a weaker conscience.  
  
  
  
  
*************************************  
Like? Dislike? What? Any reaction? Come on people, give me a pulse! Drop me a line, I wanna know what you think and how this little ficlet can be better...don't make me dance the cha-cha (I can be that cruel!) 


End file.
